Friday, April 22, 2016

Playtime at #Osterfest 2016: flogging at Qualgeist


Sir and I had lots of fun at the various Puppy events at this years Ostefest - but it wasn't all just puppy-dog tails and chew-toys...


One of the best nights out was at Qualgeist - a great bondage club run by a cooperative out in Mehringdamm. Like many places in Berlin, the club was tucked in the ground floor of an old apartment building, four or five courtyards back from the main road. It is small, but it was one of the best equipped clubs I have ever visited: with multiple cages, bondage chairs and beds, slings, a St Andrews Cross and a fantastic hoist set up within the main room - with a 15 foot high ceiling...! 

They don't believe in cramming in the punters either, so there was lots of room to play without being bumped or stood on (or a getting hit by a stray flogger). It does mean that they aren't the easiest club to get into, however: get there early because once they're full, the doors close and you have to wait until someone leaves. We avoided the main party night, but we still ended up queuing in the cold for a good hour before we got in; not that I really minded though: I had my Man to keep me warm after all...

Once we had got in and stripped out of our boilersuits, Sir clipped His lead to my collar and led me around the club to explore what was on offer. There were several pups about (all on 2 legs), and lots of guys trying out the equipment; we also caught up with a couple of nice UK skin guys who we've met at several events before, and got to watch them doing a little trampling demonstration.

Sir took us both upstairs so that I could get into pup-mode. We found a great space with a huge padded bondage bed in it where a couple of fully suited and helmeted bikers were tying another biker down: it made for the most amazing and sexy demonstration - especially when the biker-Dom finally climbed on top of His helpless buddy and slowly humped him into a muffled orgasm - lidded heads pressed close together to see their faces through the fogged-up visors...

We padded around for a while - the pup hooded and on all fours. There was plenty to see, from guys getting mercilessly tortured in the bondage chair, or slowly mummified in layers of rubber tape, to beautiful displays of rope-containment and slow fisting in the slings.

We gave a little to the action too - with my Man letting me drive Him to knee-buckling pleasure, licking and sucking Him with all the training and talent I could raise...



Finally, Sir led me back to the main room where He'd spotted a nice St. Andrews Cross; there He had me strip my semi-transparent rubber surf-suit to expose my bare back, and cuffed my hands up onto the wood. The air felt cold against my skin after the wet warmth of the rubber - but Sir had plans to warm me up by breaking in the new heavy leather flogger He had bought at Boxer when I bought my hood...

Damn, but the heavy leather felt good. Sir started slowly - whispering the tongues across my back and shoulders - getting the feel for the balance and swing of the new flogger, and carefully watching His dog's reactions. He needn't have worried: there was no biting or cutting from the soft leather, just a blissful shudder as the solid weight caressed my skin. Slowly, Sir stepped back: giving Himself more room to swing the flogger and test its weight - each blow subtly rising in power and weight, slowly teasing me with heightened awareness. We started to gather a small crowd of appreciative watchers, and so I leaned outwards, hung my head, and spread my back wider: opening my body in sacrifice to my Man; I heard Him growl in appreciation - and felt the buzz and flow of power ramp up between us as His blows ramped up harder, faster - and the hard concussive power of His will spread warm pain across my skin and deep into my muscles.  

Flogging is an immensely sensual  experience to watch: the arc and fall of the whip, the whistle and thud of leather upon flesh, the drifting smell of warm leather and sweat, the breathless grunt of the Master's swing and the bitten-gasps of pain from the sub.. It looks so impressive - but nothing can compare with how it feels.

It's not about the pain. Not really. The pain of each blow is intense, but curiously fleeting - a sudden, heavy touch across the skin, and then gone. Each blow feels like a crushing hug, focused into a split second of sensation; there is an intensity to that feeling: a connection between you both that is all the more powerful for it's brevity. But, each blow builds upon the last - a lingering, stinging, kiss that slowly warms the flesh, shudders through the muscles, eats down into your heart and your soul. The longer and harder those blows rain upon you, the deeper you are forced into yourself - and the more open you feel. Your body aches, your skin burns - and yet you find yourself leaning outward: spreading your shoulders, rounding your back - begging for more with your aching flesh. Each blow becomes a step closer to an unseen but ultimate goal: complete surrender and total communion with the Man behind the flogger - the God who blesses you with the transforming power of His pain...

And then it is over - and He steps close to you. Your shuddering body feels the HEAT of Him radiating into you. He touches you, strokes a hand across you - breathes upon you; every cell and fibre of your being is sensitised, humming, open, raw - you FEEL Him more intently, more intensely than you could ever imagine possible. Your body trembles, your mind reels within a warm sea of surrender - and then He finally enfolds you in His arms: pours all the energy that you have surrendered to Him back into you - ninefold, a hundredfold - radiating from Him and into you, and reflected back from the shuddering core of yourself back to Him. Those moments feel as though you have both stripped bare your souls - climbed out of your skins and connected on a level beyond the organic.

It's the most amazing feeling I have ever felt.


Sir took us for a drink, and then another little tour of the play space; when we came back, we noticed that the Hoist arrangement was free - and I totally begged to be allowed to give it a try...!

The flogging on the Cross was amazing - but I think the experience of the entire weekend had to be then: winched up into the roof high above Sir's head: suspended by my booted ankles and spinning free in empty space - seeing my body gravity-stretched and turning in the mirrors that surrounded the room, the lights dancing over my inked and sweat-shined flesh - looking down at a circle of men far below who had gathered to watch as Sir lowered me slightly, then tied and restrained my hands to bolts in the floor so that my body was stretched tawt: racked in space as He slowly flogged me back into spinning submission, sweat dripping from me, each drop rainbow bright in the lights as it fell to pool upon the floor beneath me... and then, finally lowering me enough so that my head was the right height for Him to take my throat and release the tensions He had built through the night - gently pushing me forward and back, my helpless body and hungry throat swinging onto Him and off, without any effort on His part....

Oh yes - that was an experience that will burn in my memory for a very very long time. 

#Puppy-play at #Osterfest Berlin - the Video!

I posted last week about the grand fun we had at the various puppy play events organised for the BLF Osterfest weekend - well Ron Berlin has made a film of the walking tour the puppy group made to the Tiergarten, so now you can watch all the fun for yourself:


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Puppy play at #Osterfest 2016

Sir took His pup to Berlin again this Easter, to join in with BLF's perverted Osterfest celebrations in Schoenberg.

As we've done before, Sir booked us into the magnificent ArtHotel Connection, at the heart of everything on the Fuggestrasse. Not only that, but He had reserved us the very special 'Room 69' - which is in fact a self contained suite, with it's own, very well appointed, play room...



Osterfest tends to be a lot quieter than Folsom Europe. We had a nicely select contingent of guys from the US (and even a few antipodeans) but most of those attending were European and home-German - which made for a comfortably 'local' feel to the parties and socialising. There was still enough queuing to keep everyone happy though.

Truth is, we didn't attend too many of the big parties - it would have been a bit churlish not to make use of such an amazingly outfitted playroom of our own, after all... It was also shockingly convenient for a lovely little Italian taverna across the road called La Lucia - it only had just eight tables, but their menu was true homemade Italian, with beautifully simple pasta and sauces freshly made each day; unsurprisingly, we ended up eating supper there almost every day. Followed by Ben and Jerry's from our own freezer back in our room....

We did attend several of the pup events, however.


It is amazing how popular and public puppy play has become. Ten years ago, there were just a few of us, sidelined in clubs and play spaces and generally viewed as just a little bit 'weird'. Now every event has at least one specialised puppy party, packed with pups happily howling, bounding, tumbling and playing for all they are worth - and all kitted out in beautifully designed harnesses, hoods, mitts and tails from every Fetish retailer.

We missed the special shopping event at Osterfest, but the Puppy play party at Sheune on the Saturday night was incredible fun. The space had been nicely kitted out with play mats and a puppy Kennel-corner - and a *ton* of squeakers and chew toys. There was a range of pups there, with lots of rubber and Mr.S muzzles on display; quite a few were uncollared or with pup friends, but there was also a few Handlers around to keep an eye on puppy safety and obedience (including having to calm a few pups that got a little too boisterous in their play, and one whose horny humping became a bit of an unasked for imposition...)

Sir was very popular, of course - and very attentive to both His own pup, and the health and happiness of everyone there. He was also helped a lot by a really sweet and very focused young Handler who was there with several of his own pups (including pup-sitting a really sweet pup from the U.S.) - and who really knew how to give a good head rub.

This pup had a fantastic time just making new puppy-friends and sharing chew-toys - but I did also get a lovely nice time sprawled on the floor and snuggled in Sir's lap just watching all the younger pups cavort. It was also a great opportunity to wear my lovely new leather pup-hood from Boxer (although, being new and a little bit tight, it did cause me a few problems and rubbed a sore spot on my nose by end of the evening...)

By far, the most fun was caused by Sir and His 'stealth' laser pointer: which he kept scanning across the floor and onto random boots, tails and crotches - usually with several pups bounding and pouncing double-pawed onto anything that it touched - and causing total chaos and hilarity!

The other fantastic puppy event of the weekend was an organised Puppy walk to the Tiergarten. Sir and I have never done a public walk before, and where quite amazed to find thirty pups and Handlers all gathered at the cafe ready for the walk - and munching down on the specially baked (and very delicious) bone-shaped Berliner Brud whilst they waited for the start. All its all of the pups arrived fully geared, hooded, muzzled and mitted, but I stayed in leathers and collar because my hood made my nose sore.

Sir really loved the new scarf I'd knitted for Him though - in the official LeatherPride colours...






The walk to the Tiergarten was hilarious fun. We walked in a big group, with most of the pups leashed (although walking on two-legs of course, given the distance); we all found plenty opportunities to cause chaos and fun though: barking at passing busses and taxis and bikes - with everyone stopping to gape and take photos. In the park, the pups were sent off in a hunting pack to sniff out a pile of presents that had had been left for them amongst the bushes. There were many big carrier bags filled with booty, but I was in my big boots and not so quick as my younger competitors, so this pup could only find one of the smaller bags; I trotted back with my find proudly held in my mouth - only to have Sir loudly announce that I'd missed the prizes and brought back someone else's poop-bag! He was fibbing of course, but it did have everyone fall about laughing. I was much better at bringing back something nicer the next time all the same...






At the park we were also joined by a nice woman and her female pup, and a guy dressed as a rabbit! Needless to say, I think he might have regretted his decision after he was chased and piled on for tickles by a whole pack of barking, giggling pups shouting "we're hunting the wabbit!"


I also got to meet a really sweet (*fit*!) pup called TiBo, who got really cold in his rubber on the walk back, and borrowed my jacket - and let me me try on his lovely Expectations muzzle in exchange. I've tried most of the different muzzles available, and I must say, this one was such a nice fit with plenty of personality but also really good mouth access that it is now on my list for purchasing as soon as I can save enough puppy-pennies to afford it...

A video of the full festivities can be found on YouTube - courtesy of Ron Berlin.



Thursday, March 24, 2016

National puppy day!

Well, it would be churlish not to post something on our national day, wouldn't it! 













Sunday, February 21, 2016

Da capa: return to the beginning

I'm not sure if you've heard of the semicolon project: survivors of depression and suicide have adopted the ; as a symbol - reflecting its grammatical use when an author could use a full stop, and finish their sentence (and its story),  but instead chooses to use a semicolon and then to continue to explore their theme a little longer. That idea has a lot of resonance for those who have faced the black lure of suicide, but who have chosen to come back from the brink and reaffirm their struggle to overcome and endure.

I've been to some very dark places over the last few years; there's been a few times where I wasn't sure I would ever see light and colour - or feel *anything* - again. But, so far, I've always had the love and unquestioning support of my Geoff, my Handler, my close friends and family - and that has always been just enough to see me through to the other side.

I wanted a reminder to myself that no matter how dark it gets, I have faced and overcome darker. I also wanted to incorporate the healing power of music (time at the piano always seems to take me out of myself so I can find balance and healing) - and so I came up with a symbolic combination of the semicolon and the musical symbol for da capa: 'return to the beginning before finishing'. Last week, my lovely friend and beautiful tattoo artist, Jo Harrison, then very kindly worked it for me around my ring finger - and added the eternity symbol to remind me that life is a continuous and endless cyclical process. 

I've had lots of ink, but this really hurt like hell - but it was a good hurt: the kind of hurt that brands an idea and a pledge into your soul: NEVER give up hope. 

Of all my ink, I think this one will be my favourite for a long time - it certainly is the most meaningful.

Namaste!


Wednesday, February 17, 2016

The Wild God

Be the dog: let the Wild God in - remind yourself that we are all beast at heart, and healed by the Hand and Voice of that Wild Truth within us: We are all One.




Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,
You will probably fear him.
He reminds you of something dark
That you might have dreamt,
Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;
Instead he scrapes with his fingers
Leaving blood on the paintwork,
Though primroses grow
In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.
You are very busy.
It is late, or early, and besides…
You cannot look at him straight
Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.
The wild god smiles,
Holds out his hand.
The dog licks his wounds
And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.
Ivy is taking over your sideboard;
Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades
And wrens have begun to sing
An old song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say
And give him the worst of your food.
He sits at the table, bleeding.
He coughs up foxes.
There are otters in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,
You close the door and
Tell her it’s fine.
You will not let her see
The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey
And you pour a glass for him,
Then a glass for yourself.
Three snakes are beginning to nest
In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.
Oh, eternal mystery.
Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.
Oh, miracle of life.
Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,
Expectorate the snakes and
Water down the whiskey,
Wondering how you got so old
And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag
Made of moles and nightingale-skin.
He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,
Raises an eyebrow
And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.
Otters rush from the darkness.
The snakes pour through your body.
Your dog howls and upstairs
Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.
You dance with the sparrows.
A white stag pulls up a stool
And bellows hymns to enchantments.
A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.
Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.
Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.
The hills echo and the grey stones ring
With laughter and madness and pain.

In the middle of the dance,
The house takes off from the ground.
Clouds climb through the windows;
Lightning pounds its fists on the table.
The moon leans in through the window.

The wild god points to your side.
You are bleeding heavily.
You have been bleeding for a long time,
Possibly since you were born.
There is a bear in the wound.

‘Why did you leave me to die?’
Asks the wild god and you say:
‘I was busy surviving.
The shops were all closed;
I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’

Listen to them:

The fox in your neck and
The snakes in your arms and
The wren and the sparrow and the deer…
The great un-nameable beasts
In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.
A cacophony of dissent.
The wild god nods his head and
You wake on the floor holding a knife,
A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.
Your wife is stirring, far above.
Your cheeks are wet with tears;
Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.
A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine
And brings the dead to life.

(Words: Tom Hirons. Image: Janne Pitkanen)


Monday, December 21, 2015

Solstice greetings!

Celebratinv a very bright and happy Solstice to one and all - with this rather sexy photo from the fabulous Inked Kenny. Now that's one Santa visit I'm ready to make... ;)


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